Homophobic DickHeads
by KeepCalmAndKeepWriting
Summary: Sort of prequel to 'Natalia' Someone throws a bottle at Arthur's head purely because he's gay, despite the fact he's carrying his sleeping baby daughter in his arms. Eames gets more than a little pissed and protective.


**N.B Written partly as a mini-rant on my behalf against homophobics- I will never even try to understand you.**

**My best-friend is bi, and I have been thinking a lot recently about gay rights and people who are against gay relationships- particularly with all this marriage stuff in the news. In my opinion, homophobia is totally and utterly unjustified and unfair and I really can't stand it. **

**I'd like to point out I have nothing against America and Americans in general (I mean, you guys have Joseph Gordon-Levitt, nuff said) and I know not everyone feels the same, but I've done my research enough to know that some of the laws over the pond are frankly ludicrous. Like the one in Lousiana against same-sex couples adopting. **

**I'm not trying to offend anyone here- just making a point. Against homophobia. With fictional violence. In the form of BAMF Eames.**

**ENOUGH OF ME THOUGH. Enjoy- and if you like enough, please do drop me a review. I love each and every one :)**

* * *

Natalia is 7 months old when Carolyn Levine point blank _insists _that she be allowed to meet her adopted granddaughter, or There Will Be _Trouble._

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," Eames says merrily, dumping an enormous pack of disposable nappies on the end of their bed, "your mother is lovely."

Arthur gives Eames a Look.

"She's only like that because she thinks your accent is charming- God, last time she was practically _flirting_-"

"-All completely harmless of course," Eames assures him distractedly, frowning down at the instructions for the baby monitor he'd just bought. "Jesus- how the hell are you meant to work this? And why are the _Russian _instructions at the front?"

"Give it here," Arthur snaps, and without bothering to find the English directions in the ridiculously thick manual, he follows the Russian ones. He hands the fully functional monitor back to Eames with a scowl.

"You're a wonder pet."

Arthur hums noncommittally.

Eames eyes him for a moment, and then takes a step closer. He lifts Arthur's chin up with a finger.

"You're worrying aren't you."

It isn't a question. They both know he is. Because that is what Arthur does- _worry._

"I read somewhere that the air pressure on planes wasn't recommended for infants under a year," Arthur admits eyes cast firmly downwards, "and the tickets are going to be a fucking _nightmare_ to book at such short notice, and I don't know how we're going to keep her entertained for a 3 and a half hour flight, and I _know_ my mother will forget to pick us up from the airport so I'll have to book a taxi as backup, and-"

Eames kisses him, and it's so gentle and careful and sudden that Arthur is momentarily distracted from the fact _Eames is shutting him up._

He makes an extremely half-hearted attempt to push Eames away.

Eames moves his lips to Arthur's cheekbone, "It will...be...fine" he murmurs between kisses, "now don't fret, that's an order."

He kisses the tip of Arthur's nose. Arthur yelps indignantly, jumping back and swatting Eames arm.

Eames laughs.

Arthur frets.

The flight is delayed, there is confusion with the passports, and at some point, somewhere, they lose the suitcase of disposable nappies. Eames takes one look at Arthur's expression and practically throws Natalia into his arms in order to prevent Arthur from _murdering _someone on the spot.

Natalia is a very easy baby on principal, for which Arthur thanks every existing deity regularly for, because they're hardly _experienced _as parents. She also rarely cries, now that she can babble at them merrily when she wants attention.

But being up in a plane was different.

She began to cry the moment the seat-belt sign flickered off; muffled, heart-breaking little wails of distress. Eames tried walking her up and down the aisle, murmuring gently into her downy hair, but the flight attendant gave them such disapproving glares that Arthur tugged Eames back into his seat after a few minutes. Sitting back down, Natalia's cries only intensified. Arthur kept his eyes clenched shit, fisting his hair angrily- listening to Eames desperately trying to soothe her. It was horrible and frustrating, and _no-one_ that small, Arthur thought desperately, should be able to cause him such _pain_.

Her wails became quieter and quieter as she exhausted herself, until she could only give the occasionally whimper, so pitiful that the looks they got from the other passengers held no trace of annoyance- just sympathy.

"Jesus _Christ, _we are never doing that again," Arthur tells Eames through gritted teeth, as he takes a now sleeping Natalia from his arms as they get off the plane.

"Fuck no," Eames sighs. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, exhaustion plain on his face.

They make their way silently through arrivals, and collect their luggage from the conveyor belts. It's all very mundane and boring, until Arthur slowly becomes aware of the lingering, curious looks being sent in their direction. Looks directed in particular at Natalia.

And they're not altogether friendly.

Arthur tightens his hold infinitesimally around her as she dozes peacefully against his shoulder.

"Eames- can we hurry up?" he asks, voice low.

"You're not the one carrying three bloody suitcases-" Eames huffs, but he looks up and takes stock of Arthur's tight expression, the way he's chewing his bottom lip anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"I've remembered why I don't like Louisiana," Arthur says, darkly.

* * *

To Arthur's honest surprise, (and intense relief), his mother actually _remembers_ to pick them up. She honks the horn of her ancient Ford Cortina with embarrassing enthusiasm for a woman of 58, and gestures them over wildly.

"Remind me why you aren't more like your mother Arthur?" Eames whispers delightedly in his ear as they walk over, Arthur making a point to _not_ increase his pace despite the honking.

"She personifies every personality trait I have tried to avoid- completely unreliable, consistently disorganised, generally chaotic-"

"Carolyn! It's been too long," Eames says loudly as they approach, and with a flourish, reaches for her hand, raises it to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles.

Carolyn laughs, instantly and utterly charmed.

Arthur glowers.

"How you ever ended up with my Arthur I will never understand Mr. Eames, but Lord in heaven, I'm glad for all our sakes you did-"

Eames looks unreasonably amused, "so am I Mrs. Levine, so am I."

Arthur rolls his eyes in despair.

"Now," she says, eyes bright with excitement, "where is my baby?"

Natalia, woken by the car horns and cool night air, blinks blearily up at Arthur. _I'm sorry, _Arthur thinks apologetically, before lifting her up and handing her to his mother.

"Oh isn't she just _precious_?" Carolyn coos immediately, reaching out to admire each of Natalia's tiny fingers in turn, and smooth down her hair. "And what beautiful eyes..." Carolyn has never been one for prejudice, something Arthur is infinitely grateful for, but he had never truly appreciated that fact until this moment. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. A warm hand appears at the small of his back, and Arthur looks up to see Eames watching him with a soft, fond expression.

Arthur gives him a small smile.

"She looks just like your sister did as a baby," Carolyn says suddenly, quietly, and even though she's avoiding looking up, it's clear that her eyes are shining with tears.

"Mom-" Arthur starts, voice rough, because his mother is about as sentimental as a rock- always had been, and only ever cries about her daughter, and Arthur really, _really_ hates seeing her cry-

Eames' hand tightens almost imperceptibly against his back.

"Now don't you go 'mom'-ing me," Carolyn scolds him, already moving on, voice brisk and falsely jovial, "Let me enjoy this moment- I thought it was a given I'd never get a grandchild out of you, what with this gallivanting off with Englishmen-"

Eames snorts, and Arthur feels his cheeks heat. He scowls his most impressive scowl, the one that makes security guards drop their weapons, and marks confess all their secrets.

It back-fires spectacularly on his own mother.

"What have I told you about pulling that face sweetie? You'll get all frown-lines like your father."

Eames tries, and fails, to stifle a smile.

Arthur pokes him in the ribs. "You're meant to be on _my_ side," he mutters under his breath, and Natalia makes a delighted squeaking noise that officially blesses her grandmother as her New Favourite Person.

Then she sneezes.

"We need to get her out of the cold," Arthur says at once, and Eames takes Natalia and climbs carefully into the car. Carolyn watches her go fondly and Arthur realises that she, like everyone Natalia comes into contact with, has already fallen under her spell, already feels the un-nameable, unaccountable desire to protect and care for her. Arthur can't help but feel a little proud. His daughter was going to break hearts one day.

"But first-" Carolyn interjects, and Arthur is about to sigh and turn and say "_What?"_ in a suitably exasperated voice when he is suddenly engulfed in a fierce hug.

"Mom- what? What's wrong-?"

"Nothing's wrong you stupid boy- but I haven't seen you in well over a year and your poor mom would sure as hell appreciate a phone-call once in a while," and she pulls away to eye him sternly.

Arthur feels instantly, horribly guilty.

"I'm sorry- it's just, we- my job- and Natalia-"

"No excuses. Get in the damn car already," but she is smiling, and swats the back of his head with familiar fondness.

"Ana-ana-aga," Natalia says conversationally when Arthur manages to clear a space in the back-seat clutter to sit-down in.

"We've figured out where you get your violent streak from," Eames informs him, a grin playing on his lips.

"Oh yeah? Would you like to be further acquainted with said-violent streak?" Arthur asks.

"No fighting in the back, boys!" Carolyn calls jovially over her shoulder, turning up the radio to a ridiculous volume.

Arthur groans and Eames roars with laughter, Natalia watching him with wide-delighted eyes.

* * *

"Never again. Okay? _Fuck, _one more comment about how- how '_incredibly lucky'_ I am to have ended up stuck with you and I- Jesus," Arthur sighs, slumping down into the booth of the tacky diner they found themselves in.

Their flight was cancelled at the last minute, and after a very, _very_ long conversation with his mother- Arthur managed to refuse the offer to return home and booked them into a cheap hotel in a town an hour or so from the airport. It wasn't ideal by any stretch, but Arthur insisted it was better than going back.

"Your mother has good taste," Eames says merrily, jigging a giggling Natalia on his knee. She's dressed in one of the many outfits Carolyn bestowed upon her, and one of the few Arthur approves off- denim dungarees.

"That is-," Arthur thinks about it for a few seconds, "so wrong. On so many levels."

"Ah but true. Isn't it true Talia? Isn't Arthur lucky to have me?"

Natalia blows a raspberry, and then starts giggling again.

Arthur quirks a smile at that.

"Well said Natalia."

Eames holds Natalia up so he can look her in the eye, expression one of mock-hurt. "I take great offense in you siding with Arthur you know- I have a hard enough time as it is without _you_ ganging up on me too."

Natalia cackles and reaches for his face with chubby fists.

It's really quite something, Arthur muses, to see all and any resolve Eames may have completely dissipate in the face of a 7 month year old baby girl.

Eames put Natalia back on his knee, but from this angle Arthur could only just about see her forehead and two, bright, mismatched eyes from behind the table.

"Cobb rang, " Eames starts, "something about wanting to get the kids together- now _there's_ a horribly domestic concept I never thought we'd be discussing-"

Natalia makes a loud, indignant noise, and squirms in Eames hands.

Eames raises an eyebrow at her down in his lap.

"What's wrong with you then missy?"

"She wants to be part of the conversation," Arthur says, biting back a smile because it's almost unreal how much Natalia likes to be fully involved in what they're doing in whatever way she can.

Eames gives a melodramatic sigh and lifts Natalia up to plonk her in a sitting position in the middle of the table between them. She's only recently started sitting up on her own, and sways a little, until Eames steadies her with a hand on her back.

"There- happy now?" Eames asks, amused.

Natalia shrieks happily, and claps her hands.

Arthur smiles, and turns back to Eames, expecting him to continue with the conversation, but he stops short.

Eames is gazing at Natalia, his expression faraway- affection, fondness and... disbelief?

"Eames?" Arthur queries softly.

"We- we have a _daughter,_" Eames says reverently after a few moments, "I have a child with _you." _And he beam at him, inexplicably happy, and Arthur feels his chest tighten, because jeez, he can't _deal with it_ when Eames drops stuff on him like this and _looks_ at him in that way-

Arthur quells the flicker of guilt in his gut, because he is still very much aware of how was the one to stall the whole adoption thing, which seems stupid _now_¸ now that they have Natalia who's so wonderfully intelligent, and unique and just _perfect. _Arthur was scared before, he isn't afraid to admit it, but Eames never once calls him up on his previous anxieties.

Because Eames is like that.

Natalia breaks the silence by lunging for the standing menu on the other side of the table, reminding Arthur that actually, they did come to this dingy, bacteria-infested diner for a _reason._

The waiter comes over after an unreasonably long wait, and takes their order. His eyes linger for just a little too long on Natalia.

"Anything for your—" he stops.

There is a brief pause, the silence stifling.

"She'll be fine," Arthur says stiffly, trying to ignore the way the man had quite _deliberately_ avoided the word 'daughter'.

Eames is blissfully unaware, rifling through Arthur's bag for Natalia's dinner.

The waiter walks off, and Eames holds up a jar of baby food, expression amused.

"Arthur, what is _this?"_

But Arthur is distracted by Natalia, who has clearly decided that she's too hungry to wait for proper food, and has resorted instead to chewing happily on a beer mat. Arthur tugs it away from her as gently as he can, horrified.

"Jesus, Natalia, you have no _idea_ where that's been," he tells her disapprovingly, which is surprisingly hard to do, when she's grinning toothily at him as though he's her favourite thing in the world.

"You want food? Well you can have food. But don't ever resort to chewing on things you've found in a public place. It's really unhygienic," he continues, searching through his bag for the plastic Whinny the Pooh spoon.

When he surfaces, both Eames and Natalia are smiling at him.

"What?"

"And you say I'm the one who talks to her like she can understand," Eames says fondly. He takes another look at the jar in his hands and grins, "Although I'm quite certain she will _never_ understand your taste in baby-food- seriously Arthur, what is this?"

Arthur snatches it off him, holding it protectively against his chest before Eames can do anything to it.

"Spinach, sweet potato and apple puree."

Eames scoffs and Natalia eyes the jar hungrily. Arthur pops the lid and holds a spoon of it out for Natalia to try. She chomps down happily- then makes a face.

Eames laughs, "don't blame you pet," he tells Natalia, "looks positively _vile-"_

"It's organic," Arthur interjects defensively.

"Yeah, organic being bits of leaves and grubs blended together-"

Natalia pointedly spits out a mouthful of the mush into her bib.

Arthur sighs, "well, you can't _get_ any better than this, _literally_, this stuff is the most expensive thing on offer-"

He loads up another spoonful, but Natalia turns her head away, avoiding it- "na na naa," she whines.

"I completely agree," Eames tells her sincerely.

Arthur scowls at the the two of them, feeling a certain sense of joint passive resistance that he won't be able to overcome.

"Fine, we'll move on to dessert," Arthur fishes out the jar, and holds it up for Natalia's inspection, "Apricot and apple rice pudding. This is high quality cuisine Natalia, you best appreciate it."

Natalia eyes Arthur with a distinctly unimpressed look, and Eames snorts with laughter.

The rice pudding turns out to be far more popular however, and Arthur can relax a little now that he knows at least Natalia is fed. The burgers that arrive for him and Eames are definitely less appetizing than the organic baby food.

Eames makes a disgusted face scarily similar to Natalia's after the first bite.

"This meat is not normal," he states, cutting up the burger with dissection precision- "Christ, what _is_ this- horse? Bear?"

"Rawr," Natalia growls around her teething ring.

Eames grins, delighted as he always is when by happy coincidence Natalia manages to babble something vaguely relevant to the conversation. It may, Arthur concedes to himself, be a little adorable.

"I'm sorry poppet, but that really wasn't very scary. You could just about pass for a kitten- maybe when you're older we can advance to more Bear-like noises."

"Eames, you do know that she really _can't _actually understand you," Arthur tells him, for the millionth time, and he is definitely not grinning.

"Ah, but how are you to know for sure?" Eames counters, abandoning his plate in favour of pulling Natalia closer, "she's very advanced for 7 months anyway- the doctor is increasingly impressed."

"Gah?" Natalia says questioningly, as she wraps a small hand around Eames' finger and tugs it to her mouth.

"Feel free to chew on my finger all you like pet," Eames says warmly, before turning back to Arthur.

"Anyway- your mother was telling me how you were building model solar systems by age 6, and that the teachers at high school hated you because you couldn't help correcting them- I wouldn't be surprised if all this intelligence passed onto Talia," Eames manages to sound both amused and fond. Arthur doesn't talk much about his childhood, and he knows that Eames treasures each and every snippet of information he can find. Arthur is going to have _words_ with his mother about this.

"Everyone hated me at high school," he says darkly instead.

Eames chuckles, re-doing one of Natalia's buttons on her dungarees, "but darling- you have such a warm and friendly personality, I highly doubt that _everyone-"_

"Seriously Eames, even you wouldn't have wanted to know me back then- I was a complete and utter loner" he pauses, thinking about Eames and his charm and humour and naturally flirtatious nature, "especially you," he adds.

Eames looks hurt. "I like to think I would've- hang on, how come your mother didn't mention this?"

"Because I didn't tell her," Arthur shoots back before he thinks about what he's saying, suddenly angry, he doesn't _want_ to talk about high school- he's done a very good job of forgetting all about it thank-you-very-much-

Eames reaches a hand out lightning-quick across the table to cover Arthur's. He doesn't say anything, but his gaze is probing, searching and Arthur knows he want to know _why-_

"It was nothing," Arthur says with a sigh, shrugging in what he hopes is a very casual gesture, "I was too smart to be liked, and I was mostly unapproachable anyway- and it _really_ didn't help that some jerk decided to tell everyone I was gay-"

Eames' hand tightens around his.

"Is this why you're worried about Natalia going to school?" Eames asks gently, "you think she'll get treated differently because of who she is- like you were?"

Arthur pauses, cataloguing various responses to the question, wondering if it would make any difference anyway, because Eames can always tell when he's lying-

"Yes," he admits eventually, eyes on the table.

"Mumumum-mnumm," Natalia babbles quietly, and Arthur feels the small hand on his face before he looks up and sees Natalia gazing at him intently, one eye grey, the other blindingly blue.

"Mnum-ma?"

Arthur smiles at her and nods, answering whatever question she asked.

"She'll be absolutely fine," Eames says confidently, and meets Arthur's eye, offering him a comforting smile and the three of them are sharing what can only be described as a truly special moment when the waiter saunters over and drops the bill onto the table.

"Sorry," the waiter says loudly, not sounding in the least bit apologetic, "but who's the little girls' dad here?"

Arthur feels Eames tense up opposite, expression instantaneous-barely-concealed-anger, sees him open his mouth to answer back sharply-

"She's mine," Arthur says quickly, kicking Eames hard under the table. It makes sense to an onlooker. Arthur is well aware that with her dark hair and pale skin Natalia more obviously resembles him physically.

Eames shoots Arthur a look, part bewildered, part hurt.

"Although I really don't see how that's any of your fucking business," Arthur finishes to the waiter coldly, because he has no reason to be _polite_.

"Hey- easy man," the waiter's grin is nervous- _Good_¸ Arthur thinks viciously, "Just- just asking." He backs away, going over to whisper something to the waitress behind the cash-desk.

Eames is fuming, and rounds on Arthur at once, "Do you mind telling me what the _bloody hell_ that was about?"

"It's just easier-"

"_Easier? _Of course is fucking _easier, _but we always knew nothing about this situation was going to be _easy-" _and it's clear Eames is hurt, but his voice is rising in volume and Natalia's shaking her head unhappily-

"Back home, its fine," Arthur says, interrupting Eames mid-rant, "but we're in _Lousiana, _Eames, and it's not actually _legal_ for same-sex couples to adopt, and I know we adopted her elsewhere and we're just visiting but I don't want to have to deal with bullshit questions like-"

"Well I fucking _know _that- wait, what?" Eames looks stunned, "it's _illegal?_"

"Yes," Arthur says with a sigh, then, "hold Natalia- she's upset."

Eames lifts a sniffling Natalia up onto his shoulder, patting her back until she quietens. His expression remains thunderous. He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and says instead-

"Next time we're going to bloody London."

Arthur quirks a smile, "that's fine by me."

Eames is still frowning, "I have a good mind to tell that waiter _exactly-"_

"It's not everyone around here- just, just some people who can come across badly when they're ignorant," Arthur says, thinking of the fond smile from his mother's neighbour, and the ridiculously domestic conversation he'd had with the store clerk about the merits of being a gay parent.

"Yeah, and people can also come across badly when they are homophobic dick-heads," Eames mutters heatedly, but he seems a little more placated.

Arthur grins, "'Dick-heads'? Really Eames?"

Eames cracks a smile- "yes. Really Arthur. Best word for 'em- now do you mind if we leave without paying?"

* * *

They leave fairly quickly after that, and the fresh air is a welcome relief after the stuffy diner. Natalia is nestled sleepily in the crook of Eames' arm, but when they pause so Arthur can button up her coat, she stirs and yawns and wakes properly. She looks up at Eames as though she has only just remembered he's there and shrieks in delight, reaching for his face with small chubby hands.

Eames laughs, and bends down to touch her nose with his in a brief Eskimo kiss, not even trying to conceal the unabashed _love, _and Arthur's throat tightens with the realisation _it wasn't physically possible for him to love Eames anymore than he already did_. What had he done so well in his life as to deserve this?

"Alright darling?" Eames asks softly, and Arthur realises he's been staring.

"M'fine," he says roughly, and holds his arms out for Natalia, "we should get going."

Eames smiles knowingly, but hands Natalia to Arthur, and they set off down the road.

It's already starting to get dark, even though it's only 8pm, and there is a cold wind that makes the hair's on the back of Arthur's neck stand on end. Natalia is cozied up in a blanket and a ludicrously thick, purple duffle coat in his arms, already nodding off to sleep despite the chill. They are not in the nice part of town by any means, and the fact that's it's a Friday night means that every bar and club is full- its patrons spilling noisily out onto the streets. Arthur doesn't comment on the fact Eames is walking much closer to him than is usual or necessary. He doesn't need an explanation.

Eames frowns to himself as they turn down a particularly narrow alleyway. He knows that Arthur is simply recalling the shortest route back to the hotel- but he would feel an awful lot more comfortable walking along a main road. Here there is more shadow than light, everything illuminated in an eerie, artificial glow from the streetlights, and Eames can't see the stars.

He feels distinctly uneasy

There is drunken laughter off to one-side, and a few loud jeers that Eames' pointedly ignores. He walks a little faster, hand at Arthur's back- he just wants to get them back to the hotel-

It's so sudden and completely out of the blue, that Eames can't react in time to do anything about it before it's happened.

An empty beer bottle flies past Eames' ear and hits Arthur, hard, in the back of the head, before falling to the floor and smashing, the shattering glass a puncture of sound in the sudden quiet of the alley. Arthur winces silently, knees buckling briefly in pain and shock before he rights himself, and then he is curling forward protectively over Natalia in his arms, one hand going to the gun at his waist-

Eames finally comes to his senses.

He wraps an arm around Arthur's narrow waist and all but _drags_ him and Natalia behind a dumpster to one side of the alley, the nearest form of shelter.

"What the _fuck-"_ Arthur is muttering, hand going to the back of his head.

"Shit, Arthur- are you alright? Is she alright?" Eames asks, aware of the edge of panic to his voice, hands fluttering uselessly at Arthur's sides.

"Fuck, yes, we're fine- _ow, _Jesus Christ, what _was _that?" Arthur flinches again, clenching his eyes shut.

"It was a beer bottle," Eames says dumbly, because he doesn't understand, _can't_ understand, but as the pounding blood in his ears lessens, it's obvious the distant jeering is getting louder, and the drunken laughter is clearer and he can just make out their shouts-

"Yeah! That's it! You go fucking running you faggot-"

"Run back to Daddy why don't you- "

"-and take the poor kid with you-"

"- it's _disgusting_, fucking un-natural I'm telling you man-"

"-she'd be better off fucking _dead_ than with two fags-"

-and Arthur is pulling his hand back from behind his head, and even in the dying light it's clear that that's _blood_ on his fingertips and that he's _bleeding-_

Natalia makes a soft, distressed wail, fisting her tiny hand in Arthur's shirt, turning her face into his chest.

Eames sees red.

"Eames," Arthur says, a little shocked by the frankly _terrifying _expression on Eames' face, "Eames, I'm fine- it's just a cut, you know how head wounds bleed like a bitch-"

"Go," Eames says, voice shaking with impossible anger, "Go. Now. Take her- get back to the hotel."

Arthur's face clouds over, mutinous.

"No fucking way, I'm not leaving you with these twats on your own, no matter how-"

"Head-wound Arthur, please don't neglect to remember that you have a fucking _head-wound-"_

"_Fuck that_, if you're going to start a fight I-"

"I can't promise I won't kill anyone, but I'll be back later-"

"Eames, there is _at least_ half-a-dozen guys out there, just ignore them- it doesn't matter-"

"It really does actually-"

"_Eames-" _Arthur tries again, feeling stupidly desperate, because he doesn't want to leave Eames, but he's holding Natalia and _fucking ow_ his head throbs and his vision is slightly blurry-

"Arthur," Eames says, and it's a voice Arthur has never heard before and never wants to hear again, cold and commanding and simmering fury all at once, "I would really rather our child wasn't in this situation right now. Go."

"You be back before 10 or I will fucking come and find you so help me-" Arthur tells him angrily, and then kisses him, once, hard, before stepping quickly away and disappearing into the shadows.

And not a moment too soon.

"Come on out- scared of a fight now?-"

"-fucking _pussies-"_

Eames pauses to force himself to relax, to focus. Arthur and Natalia are as good as safe -head-wound or not Arthur is more than capable to get back unharmed- and that's what really matters. Dealing with ignorant, drunk, _twats_ is just on the side.

He steps out from behind the dumpster into the murky, orange glow of the street-lamp. There are seven of them in total, and judging by the way the one nearest is swaying on his feet, very, _very_ drunk.

Eames laughs darkly.

The atmosphere changes in a second. They may be drunk, but the men are coherent enough to recognise a challenge when they see one.

"Hey-" the nearest one croons mocking, "would you look at that? Pussy boy is having a go is he? N'aww- ain't it cute."

The others laugh, and they advance forwards, circling Eames, brimming with drunken confidence. One of them spits at him, and the glob of phlegm lands on Eames' shoulder. More laughter.

Eames stands coolly in the centre of the circle.

He shrugs his jacket silently to the floor, then undoes his shirt cuffs with small, precise movements. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, and meticulously takes off the watch Arthur gave him, dropping it into his pocket. Distantly, he wonders if any of these jerks went to Arthur's high school. He hopes so.

"What's so funny?" the guy in front of him demands, words slurring, and god Eames hates drunks, "I wouldn't be smiling if I were you right now- not seeing as you'll be fucking bleeding out all over the sidewalk any time soon... and then, then we'll go after your _boyfriend_ as well, see how he likes being a bitch for _us_ instead- then what'll happen to the girl hm? She'll be put in a fucking home, along with a load of other whores, and be high as a fucking kite before she's 13." More jeering. Someone woops.

Eames pauses, internally suppressing every violent emotional response to that particular taunt, before slowly looking up and meeting the man's gaze.

"You really have no _idea_ who you're dealing with," he says, voice pitched low and threatening.

The first punch Eames lands is in the fucker's balls and it's immensely satisfying.

* * *

Arthur doesn't quite allow himself to run, but it's a near thing. He can hear the jeering and laughter echoing from the alley he'd just left, where he'd just left _Eames, _Christ-

He ducks down under a fire escape and finally, _finally_, stumbles out onto a main road. It's well lit and alive with activity, and no-one will look twice at a father carrying his daughter.

Natalia is murmuring unhappily in his arms, clenching and unclenching her fist in Arthur's creased shirt. Arthur stops briefly to catch his breath, and leans against a concrete wall. His head hurts like fuck, and the blood is going to absolutely _ruin_ his shirt, and everything is spinning slightly-

But Eames will be fine, he tells himself.

Absolutely fine.

The best thing he can do now, he decides, is get back to the hotel room with Natalia and wait.

Arthur fucking hates waiting.

* * *

Eames is a little wary when he finally arrives back at their hotel room. It's 10:37pm and he just _knows_ that Arthur will be pacing, most likely with a gun in his hands, maddened with indecision at what to do. Just as Eames would be if their positions were reversed.

He opens the door slowly, carefully, "Arthur-?" he calls softly into the darkened room.

He switches on the light.

Arthur is standing in the middle of the room, one hand supporting Natalia asleep on his shoulder, the other pointing a gun at Eames' head.

"Hello to you too pet," Eames says with a smile.

Arthur drops the gun, and turns to gently lay Natalia back in her cot, tucking in the blanket around her.

"She wouldn't stop crying," Arthur says quietly, back turned, "we got back and she took one look around the room and started to cry and she just _wouldn't stop_, and I thought-"

Eames crosses the room in two long strides and pulls Arthur into a hug.

Arthur hugs him back tightly until Eames winces, feeling the bruised rib.

"How badly did they beat you up?" Arthur demands at once, pulling back and assessing him with narrowed, concerned eyes.

"How badly did they beat _me_ up? Arthur, I think you should be more concerned about them- I ended up calling an ambulance as I left out of the goodness of my heart-"

"I'm not concerned about those fuckers-" Arthur says savagely, and hisses when Eames brushes his hand lightly across the bump at the base of Arthur's skull.

"I'm fine- not even a concussion," Arthur tells him irritably, seeing Eames' jaw tighten, "No," he says, suddenly, "fuck that, I'm _not_ fine- how retarded do you have to be to go ahead with a fight on the odds of 7:1? And in populated area too?"

Eames takes a step back, frowning, "I'm not going to apologise for something I don't regret Arthur- I would do exactly the same if the situation was to arise again, and I bloody hope it won't, but you can't _expect_ me to stand by and do nothing when you and Natalia are being threatened for the sake of fucking _decorum -"_

Arthur kisses him then, angry and upset and pent-up concern, and Eames kisses him back, just as fiercely, until they're both breathless.

"Next time you're taking my gun," Arthur tells him firmly, but he's relaxed a little in Eames' arms and his voice shakes ever so slightly.

"Absolutely," Eames promises, pressing a kiss to the top of Arthur's head.

Natalia squeals happily from her cot, very much awake, and Eames swoops her up into his arms, holding her against his chest a little too tightly.

Natalia grabs his finger and immediately starts chewing.

"Rawr rawr rawr," she growls.

"You're positively terrifying pet," Eames tells her affectionately.

"Should have set her up against those pricks," Arthur says lightly from over his shoulder, back to his usual-self, and Eames is glad, really _very_ glad that Arthur hadn't heard what had been said back in the alley.

He wraps an arm around Arthur's middle, pulling him into a half-hug, so Arthur can lean into Natalia's eye-line.

"You know Eames?" Arthur murmurs to her softly, "yeah, well he's a right asshole half the time, but he can sure as hell beat up anyone who's mean to you- okay? Just so you know. Don't take any shit Talia, not from anyone- you just come tell us."

Natalia gurgles delightedly.

**HOPE YOU LIKED :D I have to admit, I have a bit of a thing for Eames being such a softy :)**


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